


Wind Beneath My Sails

by tipofthepencil



Category: Hot Wheels: Battle Force Five
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Worldbuilding, lol idk, weird (wise?) sayings, what is a blue flame?, wind motifs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-17 00:35:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11264319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tipofthepencil/pseuds/tipofthepencil
Summary: Zoom doesn’t quite make it out of the Order the first time, but this thing called Destiny gets its way anyway. Wait, maybe it's called Fate. I need to consult with Rawkus.





	Wind Beneath My Sails

**Author's Note:**

> Two thoughts spawned this fic:  
> 1\. In no naming dictionary is Takazumi a last name – who names the last name of a character after the first name of a famous person?  
> 2\. What if Zoom never left the Order????

\--------------------------------------------

When Takazumi was seven, he was brought before the elders of the Flying Fist to gauge his potential. After seeing his fluid movements, they all had wonderful things to say, beaming down at him like they were blessing him.

_He’s deft. It’s like the wind is aiding him,_ the first lady says, in awe.

_Beautiful control_ , says the man _, a wonderful mastery of the arts_.

_Look at the power behind that kick!_ gushes another. _He is a formidable foe already_.

At his side, Sensei glowed faintly at the praise, and the hand he placed at Takazumi’s shoulder was warm and kind.

Until they reached the last elder, a wizened old man one step away from the grave but still as sturdy as a tree. Not an oak that snaps in the wind, but a willow that bends in the strongest gales.

The old man looked straight into Takazumi’s eyes, whereas all the others talked to Master Takeyasu, and said, “Hm. Not bad. He would be a better biker though.”

And okay, Takazumi had a bicycle, and he’s the best at popping wheelies and back-flipping, but _rude_. He’s a great martial artist, and took down one of the older brothers of the Flying Fist just yesterday. He’s like, honestly more than just _not bad._ Sensei said he was a _natural_.

Screw the old geezer, Takazumi’s going to kick his butt one day.

\--------------------------------------------

“Takazumi,” Master Takeyasu said, eyes crinkling at the corner, “It is my pleasure to declare you the next Chosen One.”

Takazumi bowed. “It’s a great honor, master.”

He catches Zen’s eyes on his way back up, and they share a grin that disappears in the next moment, like a sudden gust.

\--------------------------------------------      

A presence hovers right on the edge of his periphery, lingering until Takazumi gradually comes out of his meditative state. “Zoom?” Heavy breathing, deliberately paced, almost hidden under the rustle of the leaves in the slow breeze.

Takazumi hums his confusion, but maintains his crossed seating position, too comfortable to move.

“Z-Zoom?” A hitch in the breath, and Takazumi’s eyes snap open. A crow caws in the distance.

“Why are you crying?” he demands of boy before him. “Which bozo made you cry?”

“I-it’s not – Sorry, I should not have bothered you, you’re training, I’m just going to go –”

Takazumi levels his most unyielding stare. “ _Who_?”

“C-Chanchai.” Of course it is. A guy with a name like that always has something to prove, and since all the seniors at this convention were at least well-trained (well-behaved is a different story), the incompetent could only pick on those younger. And Takazumi is just out of his league, period.

“What did he say? Should I get sensei? I’ll get him in so much trouble –”

“N-no!” Hands quickly wipe away tears. “No, it wasn’t – His father. Chanchai was just… talking –”

Takazumi seethes, “You mean bragging.”            

“– _talking_ about how accomplished his father is. And then he asked everyone what their father did. But when he got to me, he…”

“He…” Takazumi echoes, his steady breathing a deceptive zephyr, fury building because he _knows_ where this is going.

“He said, ‘oops, no family here.’ And then moved on. Sorry –”

 “Don’t _apologize_ , Zen!”

“– this is ridiculous. I just, I miss my parents. It’s not like three-quarters of the children here _aren’t_ orphans. I’m blowing this out of proportion. At least I _remember_ enough about my parents to miss them.”

“Zen.”

“I mean, others lived in the orphanage their entire lives –”

“ _Zen_.”

“ _You_ lived in the orphanage your entire life. But I can’t –I can’t,” Zen breathes heavily and closes his mouth. He’s at that age when he’d do anything not to cry, and Takazumi won’t be the one to betray that, so he tugs Zen against his body, breathes, and tilts his head back to look at the stars. Zen goes through several more turbulent hitches, while Takazumi steadfastly does not look at him.

“You’re my best friend, Zoom,” Zen mumbles into Takazumi’s shirt, hands fisted in the cotton. “You’re Sensei’s star student. You’re the Chosen One. You’re so cool. I think it’s like, if you’re there, then everything’s okay.”

“Then I’ll be here,” Takazumi responds, jostling Zen affectionately, “best friend.”

Safe to say, Chanchai never pokes his face into other’s people business again. Actually, rumor is that he transferred to a different school of martial arts, which is strange because Flying Fist was the most prestigious school out there, and Chanchai’s family is all about prestige.

The next time Takazumi sees his sensei, they hem and haw about how strange it all is with certain gleam in their eyes.

\--------------------------------------------

“Here it is,” Master Takeyasu murmurs, hushed out of respect. He turns to look at Takazumi. “This is the flame which you’ll be guarding.”

Takazumi looks, because there is nothing else to see and also he’s rather curious. It’s a flickering burst of azure light, bright but depthless, at the center of a single blue lotus, encased in a glass dome. Objectively, it’s kind of pretty? But mostly, it’s kind of weird. It looks a little like someone went wild with the blue food coloring. But even weirder is the fact that – “It’s not burning the flowers?”

“No, that is not what this flame does. To be truthful, we have yet to find out its purpose, and it’s not something of this planet. It sustains itself on the determination of the people around it. The lotus,” Sensei continues, gazing at the flower, “is strife with symbolism for our people. A blue one symbolizes victory of the spirit. One of our ancestors thought it fitting.”

“Huh.”

“Takazumi,” Sensei says, “You are The Chosen, and with you this flame must thrive. Some of the elders call your spirit a wind, and they are insightful when it comes to these matters. You are quick like a gust, powerful like a gale, and flexible like a twister. But you are also prone to turbulence. My own master would have called you a perfect storm.”

Takazumi swallows, throat suddenly tight, “Master…”

Master Takeyasu glances at him, then back at the Blue Flame. “I believe in you. I believe you will stoke this flame and it will last. You have always been a diligent pupil, and I trust you will treat this task as what it is.”

“I will,” Takazumi promises. “I will.”

Sensei smiles, “The price of greatness is responsibility.”

Later that day, for a reason he couldn’t explain, Takazumi grabs his bike and loops the compound until his face was numb from the biting wind.

\--------------------------------------------

“Zoom, what is this?” A traitorous piece of paper.

“Oh. …Zen!”

 “Why is this saying goodbye? Zoom, are you leaving? You’re not, right? You said you’d be here. Are you trying to leave me behind?”

“What? No … no, of course not! Zen, dude, frogs who take too many leaps disturb the pond.”

“…What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t jump to conclusions. I thought I’d channel my inner Sensei and coin some sayings.”

“That was really bad; please don’t try again.”

\--------------------------------------------

In another world, maybe, Takazumi makes it out of the compound of the Order. Sheds his old self with a roll of his shoulders. Hightails it out of there and never looks back at his past until the day that past slides in on a skateboard and looks at _him_. Changes his name even.

He always thought Zoom sounded nice.  It had the feel of dry howling wind and dry cracking pavement below you and dry roaring rumble of the engine.  A highway with no end, because the minute you think of one it’s already miles behind you.

 He could have been a Zoom.

Not Takazumi, Master Takeyasu’s brightest pupil. Takazumi, the Chosen One. Takazumi,

_bright child kind soul on the right path what a damn mouthful_.

Wait no. Gotta calm down. Breathe in, breathe out. Be zen.

Zen calls him Zoom, at the very least. He unofficially shortened Takzumi’s name at the tender age of four months and it’s never changed since. Takazumi loves that, loves how he took an unwieldy mess of a name and made it crisp, like a new sheet of paper. Some nights, Takazumi is so overcome by how much he loves his best friend.

But Zen is also the reason Takazumi can’t leave, so. Then again, that’s kind of Takazumi’s own fault. When you forge a tie stronger than that of family, and the other end of that bond is a kid with insane puppy dog eyes and a serious wibble in his lips, you find it hard to sever it.

(If Takazumi doesn’t think about his packed bag, stuffed under the floor boards, doesn’t think about money he’d been quietly saving up since he was sixteen, to bribe the guards to look the other way, doesn’t think about the goodbye note, barely started because it was found too early –

If he doesn’t think about it, isn’t it like it didn’t happen?

If he doesn’t think about it, then he never tried to leave. Then he’s satisfied with his life.

He’s satisfied.)

\--------------------------------------------

Okay, this is ridiculous.

Takazumi goes from a life of training and eating rice 24/7 to a life of training and eating rice 24/7 with the occasional break in. Sometimes, it’s actually someone who comes in knowing that _yes_ , the Blue Flame is a literal cannot-be-doused burning wick. Those people, he kicks their butt and sends them away. Most times, it’s a robber who thinks the thing is some sort of priceless family heirloom and hears that the guardian of it is some sixteen-year-old kid.

It’s a kind of therapy kicking their face in, but why.

_Why._

Both Master Takeyasu and Zen are busy these days, so Takazumi usually ends up driving around the building and weaving through the neighboring forest when he gets tired of training and eating white rice.

Did he mention that he eats a lot of rice? Enlightenment, what even.

Once in a while, Takazumi remembers what that old geezer had said and then slams his head into his motorcycle, ignoring the resulting honk. He really, really, _really_ doesn’t want to prove that old man right, but –

But some nights he wonders what kind of life he would lead if he had been a biker after all. He wonders how it would have turned out if he actually managed to leave. He tries not to think about the packed bag and the money and the goodbye note he’s not going to write _this_ time – not that he’s leaving. He’s _not_. He’s happy as he is, really – and so he doesn’t. Not at all. Okay, but only on Sundays.

He stills doesn’t want to prove the old man right though, so when he in the foliage, hidden from sight by the trees, he practices martial arts on a moving vehicle. And maybe pops a few more wheelies right after, but he digresses.

It keeps that flame burning, is what he’s saying. He’s gotta be doing _something_ right.

\--------------------------------------------

One day, Zen brings by some new recruits to introduce the Chosen One to them.

“This is Takazumi,” Zen says proudly. It feels like a betrayal.

Takazumi offers a solemn nod past the sudden shortness of his breath.

After the young ones leave, Takazumi notices that the blue flame is dimming.

\--------------------------------------------

He needs to get out. He needs to get out of this stuffy temple, needs to feel the wind on his skin like it’s a hurricane, and needs to try the taste of freedom for once in his life.

He also needs to secure the Blue Flame. That could be a problem.

It’s not a problem he can’t solve though, right? The flame swells in agreement. Right.

\--------------------------------------------

Before his plans ever truly get set into motion, though, the doors to the temple bust open and Zen, seven other people, and something that’s obviously an alien pour in, soaked; one goes to close the door on the verifiable typhoon raging outside.

He raises an eyebrow and coughs pointedly. “Zen? Is there a reason I’m hosting a party here?”

“’S not a great party, buddy,” says the shorter man in the blue suit. “Where’s the ‘za?” The what?

Zen bows and straightens up smoothly, and gestures towards the blonde man with blue eyes. “Allow me. This is Vert.” Well, okay then. Then Zen turns to the blonde man and inclines his head. “The one you see before you is the Chosen One, Takazumi.”

“He’s young,” notes the African woman behind him, from where she is wringing out her hair. “Is this Order of Flying Whatevers in the habit of getting them in before they even hit puberty?”

Before he could even squawk at the indignity, Zen does it for him. “Takazumi is the best of our generation! He’s _more_ than capable for this mission.”

“Best of your generation?” drawls the redhead in the purple suit, ponderingly. He seems to come to a decision and bows unnecessarily deep. “Please accept me as your disciple, Master Takazumi. I, Stanford Isaac Rhodes IV, am the humble leader –” Groans and rolled eyes. “–of this intergalactic battle force and I assure you –”

“Actually,” interrupts Vert. “ _I_ am the leader of this group, and we need your help. But not as a teacher, Mister Takazumi.” He turns. “Sage?”

“Yes,” says the apparently female alien. “I am Sage, a Blue Sentient. I hail from a different part of the multiverse and my species is an alien race with high levels of technology-based higher order brain functions threatened with extinction. As of right now, I am the last of my kind.”

Wow, this is going to go so well.

\--------------------------------------------

A great amount of exposition later, he pretty much gets the idea.

Alien race red and alien race blue are at war and have nearly wiped each other out, his universe and a gazillion others are going to wink out of existence if nothing is done, and Master Takeyasu is captured by alien race red and needs to be saved.

Okay no, he doesn’t get it. These people obvious have no idea _who_ his Sensei is, because Sensei never needed to be saved. Even at his worst, _he_ does the saving.

“We need the Blue Flame to act as a stabilizing agent in the fusion of three vehicles,” Sage is explaining. “As it is, the bonds are barely strong enough to hold two cars together for longer than a few minutes. If we were to try a third vehicle, it’s likely that the entire system will dissolve pre-existing quark bonds to get that needed energy, and all participants would just disassociate, even the humans.”

“Which isn’t good,” says Vert. Which, story of these people’s life, it seems. “Now can you help us out, Mr. Takazumi?”

He thinks about everything he’s ever done up to this point and knows that there will never be another moment like this. “Zen brought you here, so I guess I don’t see a problem with it,” he says. “And you guys can just call me Zoom.” He reaches over with his left leg, wedging his big toe under the flame’s dome and tosses the whole container into the air before easily catching it in his right hand. Zoom idly inspects the casing before handing it over to Sage the blue alien. “I’ll be coming with you, by the way,” he adds, noting their stunned faces. “It’s kind of my one sacred duty to protect that thing. I haven’t gotten a strike on my record yet.”

Vert exchanges pointed looks with his teammates before turning back to Zoom and smiles, “Well, I suppose the more the merrier.”

It says something about this team that the Blue Flame blazes brighter than Zoom has ever seen before.

\--------------------------------------------

“It is strange,” says Sage, bright blue eyes the color of the Blue Flame. “I feel as if you were always meant to be with us, on this team, Mr. Takazumi.”

“It’s Zoom,” he says with a roll of his shoulders and a grin.

Sage smiles. “Zoom.”

\--------------------------------------------

**Author's Note:**

> So kicking Red Sentient butt? Even more therapeutic than kicking out thieves.  
> On that note Zoom has never been so hyped before in his life. Like, what is this. Razor blade cars? Check (and man, Vert’s so cool!) Drag (literally) derby all terrain ride? Check and sweet, dude. Motorcycles that fly?!? Everything Zoom’s ever trained for leads to this one moment. Chopper, hallelujah! He’s the King of the Wind! He may take more pleasure than necessary in overtaking fellow cars. And sneaking around in stealth mode. And crippling any and all airborne enemies. Sage hums thoughtfully and says something about scouts.  
> As suspected, Master Takeyasu empathetically did not need to be saved, but his buddy Rawkus the Rock kinda does, and Zoom can kind of swear he’s seen that guy before. Talking to his sensei. At sleep o’ clock in the morning. Under the sturdy elm tree. Which Zoom promptly forgot about because it probably was a dream, and why would his sensei be talking to a glowing rock?  
> (Rawkus remembers him though, so…?)
> 
> Zoom is never ever going back to the temple. Ever.


End file.
